


Le Roi de la Bête

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Beauty and the Beast AU, Disney References, M/M, fairytale AU, lots of shmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 06:30:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1053606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sam Winchester agrees to take the place of his father in the castle of the enigmatic Prince of the Beasts, he doesn't anticipate the magic of the place touching him. And, as the months pass and the rose petals fall, it's clear that magic isn't the only influence on his heart... A Beauty and the Beast AU written for the Sabriel mini-bang 2013.  Artwork by theblackrose16.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by imadeancasgirl, whose tumblr prompt and constant cheerleading motivated me to write this. Also a huge thank you to wolfish-willow for her support too. This is a mix of the Disney movie and the original story. I also want to thank my artist, the amazing blackrose16 for her beautiful artwork, which features throughout the story or can be found on her website (theblackrose16.wordpress.com/2013/11/21/le-roi-de-la-bete-art/).
> 
> As always, I do not own the characters of Supernatural nor am I in any way affiliated with Disney; I just borrowed their idea of inanimate objects coming to life (with more sass).

Once upon a time, back when the world was rife with magic and dreams did come true, there was a young prince called Gabriel. He was a beautiful man, with a splendid castle and all the riches his dark heart could desire. The kingdom he had inherited from his parents was beautiful and the envy of all the world. However, with all his perfection on the outside, his soul was a black hole, sucking emotion and life from everything he passed. His servants would duck into nooks and crannies as he approached, for fear of facing his vile temper alone. His subjects would quietly spit his name in the privacy of their homes, cursing his pompous soul and condemning him to Hell as he raised the taxes yet again. It was true that Prince Gabriel was a vile being, unloved and uncaring.  
  
One night, when lightning scorched the ground and the winds howled in agony, there was a banging on the castle door.  
“Who’s hammering on my door at this time of night?!” Prince Gabriel roared from his room. He stormed down the corridors, ignoring the curious stares of his servants before flinging the grand door open. Stood haggard in the doorway was an old man, with a hunched back and gnarled fingers. He had a snaggle tooth and a huge wart on the end of his nose. He looked up at the Prince from under his hood, his brown eyes wide and trembling.  
“Good kind sir, please let me into your castle and provide me with shelter from the storm,” he begged, his voice creaky like an old floorboard. Prince Gabriel folded his arms and glared down at him.  
“Why should I let a peasant into my home?” he demanded, tapping his foot impatiently.  
“Please sir, I fear I will catch my death and die if you do not!” the beggar cried, lurching forward to grab onto the Prince’s hand.  
“How dare you touch me?!” he bellowed, shoving the man to the floor. There was a moment of pause when suddenly the world exploded into light. The man on the floor rose and he was terrifying. His flesh melted away to reveal a young, stern face that glared down at him with such disgust the Prince physically recoiled.  
“W-who are you?” he managed to stammer out. The beggar man, who was now wearing a halo of light, spread his arms grandly.  
“I am the Enchanter Chuck!” he boomed, the earth below vibrating with his words. “And you are Prince Gabriel, a sinner and a monster!”  
“No, I’m not!” the Prince protested weakly, collapsing to his knees and clasping his hands in a praying position. “Please, forgive me! Come into my home and eat with me!”  
“So you offer me keep now you know my true power?” The Enchanter scoffed in disgust. “You are a vile stain on the earth! You have no compassion and no love in that space where your heart should be!”  
“I can change!” Prince Gabriel cried.  
“Yes, you can and you will.” With that Chuck clapped and a fork of lightning struck the castle. Instantly the pure white walls stained black and the shrieks of its inhabitants rang through the air. He clapped again and another fork pierced Prince Gabriel in the heart. He fell to the floor and screamed in pain as his body stretched out, his nails sharpening to a point. His golden hair spread across his body and his perfect teeth turned into fangs.  
“What are you doing to me?!” he tried to cry out, but all that escaped his mouth was a bloody snarl.  
“Until you learn the true meaning of love, you will be as ugly on the outside as you are inside.” Chuck snapped his fingers and a rose appeared in his hand. “Each petal on this flower represents one year of your life. You have eighteen years to find your true love or else you will remain a beast forever.” He placed the rose at Gabriel’s feet and, with a final clap, vanished into the night.  
  
A dreadful howl echoed into the night as the Beast began his reign.  



	2. Wanderlust

Samuel Singer was an average boy. He lived with his father Robert in a ramshackle cottage on the outskirts of their little French village, Laurence. He liked to read and he frequented the ‘Folle Avec des Livres’ bookstore in the village square. His favourite things included lying in corn fields on summer days and huddling near a fire on winter nights. He wanted for nothing and, whilst most would say his lifestyle was a strange one, it suited him just fine.

Well, almost.

The only problem with reading so much was that he developed unrealistic ideals for the world. He would look up at the cyan blue sky and wonder what it would be like to be a bird and fly wherever you wanted. Other times he would gaze into the depths of a pool of water and suddenly feel the desire to strip off his clothes, grow gills and explore the underwater world. His father always told him he was being an ‘idjit’ and to help him find his wrench. But, no matter what his father said, he couldn’t shake off the need to see what lied beyond the walls of his little town. However, Sam found he had to content himself with his books and his life in Laurence. And, whilst it wasn’t ideal, it was where he belonged.

Sam ran his fingers lightly over the spines of the many rows of books, inhaling their musty scent and shivering slightly. He was so engulfed in their textures that he didn’t notice he wasn’t alone.  
“Salut Sam!” The Singer boy jumped and span round, almost smashing his forehead against the small blonde girl who was beaming up at him.  
“Becky… salut.” Becky Rosen owned the bookshop and, whilst she was a nice enough girl, she had a kind of obsession with Sam that made him more than a little uncomfortable.   
“You looking for anything in particular?” she enquired, fluttering her eyelashes and puffing her chest slightly. Sam smiled politely and shrugged, pointedly keeping his eyes away from her breasts.   
“Just looking for some more Carver Edlund,” he said. Becky squealed and clapped her hands excitedly.  
“I love Monsieur Edlund! He’s one of the greatest writers out there!”  
“He really is,” Sam agreed. “The way he talks about the two brothers fighting ghosts, joining the battle for Heaven with angels… it makes me want to go on an adventure.”  
“I heard he thought them up from a dream,” Becky said, running a hand lightly over his pectoral. “A true genius.” Sam, now extremely unnerved, shifted underneath her hand and backed up against the bookshelf, cursing internally to find he was trapped.  
“So, do you have anything new?”  
“Well, not since yesterday,” she giggled. “Honestly Sam, I’d say you read too much if such a thing were possible!” Sam smiled tightly and waved the book he’d brought with him.  
“I’ll just reread this one then.”  
“Oh? What is it? Edlund?” she asked, craning her neck and moving in just a little too close for comfort.  
“Oui. It’s L'Archange et l'Abomination. It’s my favourite.’’   
“Not one of his best,” Becky frowned and Sam bristled.   
“I have to go. Au revoir Becky.”  
“Adieu!”

When Sam returned home, he wasn’t surprised to see billows of pink, blue and green smoke spouting from the chimney. He hurried into the house, just in time to see his father spluttering and wiping glitter from his face.  
“Papa, are you alright?” he asked, rushing to his father’s side. The bearded man brushed him off and stood up, haemorrhaging sparkles as he did. He glared down at the contraption beneath him, scratching his ear absently.  
“I’ll never get this damned thing done in time for the convention!” he huffed, kicking one of its flat wheels angrily.  
“Papa, you just need to be patient,” Sam soothed, putting his book down so that he could instead pick up a broom.   
“To hell with being patient, I only have a day to get it finished!”  
“What’s the matter with it?” Sam asked calmly as he swept up mini cyclones of hot pink.  
“It won’t work!” Bobby cried desperately. “How am I going to be a pioneer in mechanics if I can’t even get a simple wood chopper to work?!” Sam rolled his eyes fondly and wrapped an arm round his father.  
“You’ll figure it out. Now, do you want anything specific for dinner?”  
“Umm, pot-au-feu,” Bobby said dismissively, rubbing his beard as he glared down at the monstrosity before him.  
“D’accord. Love you Papa,” he said, kissing his father on the cheek.  
“Love you too, idjit.” 

That morning Bobby and Sam were both up at the crack of dawn, their humble cottage a hive of activity as they went about last minute preparations for Bobby’s journey.   
“Mind if I take Chevy with me?” the old man asked.  
“Of course you can, Papa. Just be safe, d’accord?”  
“Oui, oui. You’ll be okay on your own?”  
“Oui, Papa. It’s fine. Now, you go to that convention, you win that award and you come back home tomorrow, right?”  
“It’s not like I have anywhere else to go,” the old man said ruefully, smiling up at his son (who was freakishly tall). Then, with a grunt, he spun on his heel and left to go finish packing his bags. 

Sam heaved a sigh as his father brought their black stallion Chevrolet round from the stable. Sam had spent all of last night brushing her mane and making her look immaculate. He always took special care of the horse. She had belonged to his older brother, who had gone missing when Sam was six; Bobby said he’d been kidnapped by a man called John and had never been found. He wouldn’t elaborate any further than that so Sam had just come to accept it as a sad fact of life. He couldn’t remember much of his brother anyway; the only thing about him he could recall was his startling emerald eyes. Shaking his head, Sam began to help Bobby organise his bags and attach them to Chevy’s saddle.  
“Are you sure you have enough previsions?” he asked, helping hoist his father into his seat.  
“For the fifth time boy, yes!” Bobby sighed impatiently. “Is the cart fixed properly?”   
“Good to go!” Sam said, shaking the cart slightly to check. He pulled back and Bobby snapped the reigns, startling Chevy into a rhythmic trot. “Au revoir Papa, bonne chance!” Bobby waved back at his son before vanishing on the horizon.

The moon had long since come up and Bobby hated to admit that he was lost. A gentle wind ruffled the trees, the promise of frost biting the man’s skin and sending prickles up his spine. Chevy had slowed so that she was now almost plodding, a fact that Bobby was not too happy with, mainly due to the fact that wolves roamed the forest. Now, Bobby was no wimp; he was well versed in combat, having been a soldier way back in his youth, and he could quite easily prove a challenge even to the most skilled fighter. But his physical strength was perhaps his only asset; Bobby was very superstitious. He would carry a pouch of salt with him at all times to ward off any wayward spirits and, although he had his doubts about the existence of a God, a crucifix always hung round his neck just in case. There had been rumours that the woods, as well as being plagued by wolves, were also frequented by supernatural beings and he really wasn’t keen on encountering one of them. He snapped the reigns once again, desperate to escape the woods as soon as possible. In the distance, he heard a bloodthirsty howl.  
“Come on Chevy, faster!” he hissed to the horse, insistently snapping the reigns until she broke into a minute canter. They bounced along, Bobby having to turn round now and then to make sure his invention hadn’t fallen out of the cart. The howling was getting closer now and Bobby could feel his heart quicken. Suddenly, Chevy went down a slope and stumbled on the rocks, whinnying in surprise as she slid down into a ditch. The cart toppled over and both Bobby and his beloved invention were in the mud.   
“Chevy!” Bobby cried, scrabbling to get on his feet and tame the horse but it was no good; she had already bolted. Bobby cursed and pulled at his invention, trying to yank it from out the mush when he heard a low snarling in the bushes. Before he could do anything about it his feet were moving and Bobby was sprinting through the bracken, yanking at thorns and tree branches as he charged ahead in no particular direction. From behind he could hear the wolves give chase and, in-between breaths, he prayed to get to safety.

It seemed that someone was smiling on Bobby that day, for within five minutes of non-stop running he came into a clearing and, stood before him like a lighthouse in the storm, was a decrepit old Château. Bobby barely had time to contemplate the odd location when a snarl from behind him forced him into motion. He ran to the entrance of the castle, grabbing the knockers and slamming them with such force he could feel his teeth go soft. He hammered and banged when the door creaked open. He fell inside, giving a little cry of ‘ooft’ as he landed on his stomach. Brushing himself down, he stood and looked around him. Now that he was safe, he had time to consider his situation. And really, it was strange that there was a castle. He recalled a local legend about a vain Prince who got turned into a terrible creature as punishment for his vanity. The castle in the story sounded rather like this one. However, Bobby had always assumed that the myth was one told by the locals to scare the children; it had originated around the time Sam had been born. And then Dean had gone missing six years later… Bobby sighed and began to walk down the grand hallway. His feet sunk into the plush red carpet and he could feel guilt swelling in his stomach as he stained the velvet with sludge. Candelabras lit the room with minute orbs of light; they didn’t provide much though, just enough that Bobby could make out vague shapes. He was so involved in trying to find his way through the labyrinth of corridors that he didn’t notice the frantic whispers or feel the tiny eyes of strangers on his back. 

-

“I recognise that man.”  
“I sincerely doubt that, he is a stranger!”  
“No Cas, I do, I know him! Damn this light, I can’t see anything…”  
“Well whoever he is, he should not be here; if Prince Gabriel finds out then who knows what will happen!”  
“Well, we’ll just have to keep him away from the Prince then, won’t we?”  
“Mon Dieu…” 

-

Finally Bobby came to an open hall, whereupon there was a large table surrounded by ornate mahogany chairs. A meal was already laid out, a far sight tastier than the meagre bread and cheese Bobby had in his pocket. Looking round and seeing no one else, he sat down in the chair and cautiously picked up the silverware. Gingerly he began to cut into the succulent duck and placed it in his mouth with the utmost care. There was an explosion in his mouth as his taste buds reacted to the contrast of the rich duck and the tangy orange sauce. He began to eat with abandon now, shovelling it into his mouth like it was his last meal. He was so engaged in filling his stomach he didn’t hear the appreciative murmurs from somewhere deep in the shadows. When he had finished Bobby got up, only to see a sign that hadn’t been there before pointing out the door he’d entered in. 

‘Suivez-moi’  
‘Follow me’

Against his better judgement, Bobby followed the instructions. He continued down the corridors, passing multiple signs on his way, walking at a slow pace so that he could take the time to admire the paintings on the walls. They were all of the same three people – two men who looked very much the same and an ethereal woman – who were either stood in a group or individually. All of them were extremely beautiful and he couldn’t help feeling inadequate under their painted stares. However, as he continued Bobby noticed a pattern; the face of the shorter of the two men was always missing, haggardly cut out with what Bobby assumed was a knife. When he came to yet another vandalised portrait he looked at the plaque attached to the bottom of the frame.

‘Prince Gabriel’  
‘Dieu est ma force’

“Prince, huh?” Bobby whistled and continued on his journey until finally he came to a sign telling him to stop. He opened the door and peered in before gasping. The room was beautiful, decorated in such a way it looked as though you were in the bowels of a cloud. Everything was white and baby pink and blue, with white roses and fireflies in jars littering the place. Immediately he spotted the huge king sized bed and flopped onto it; it felt as though he’d fallen into the arms of an angel. He was unconscious as soon as his head hit the pillow. 

***

The next morning Bobby woke up from the best sleep of his life to breakfast in bed, left by an unknown source. As he tore at his croissant and dipped it in sweet raspberry jam he decided that he would find his saviour and ask them for a ride back to Laurence. He had little money on him but he would give all of it, as if it was worthy for the hospitality that had been shown to him. Once his plate was wiped clean he dressed in fresh clothes he found in the large white closet and padded down the corridors. The signs from the night before were still there so he quickly found his way to the main hall. He looked around in the hopes that his host would be there, but he was greeted with nothing more than the ticking of a clock. Sighing, he went over to a chest of drawers, where he placed the various coins he’d found in his pockets. He looked about for a piece of paper to scrawl a note on when he stopped. In a crystal bowl was a variety of candies, each looking like rare gems. Bobby’s thoughts flitted to Sam and he couldn’t help thinking how his son would appreciate the little luxury. Unthinkingly, he stuck his hand in the bowl and pulled out a ruby red one. 

Suddenly, a furious screech filled the castle and Bobby was pinned to the floor. The man screamed as his eyes fell on the face of… he didn’t know what. It seemed to be a hybrid of an eagle and a wild cat, with lion paws but the sharp talons of a bird. The creature was short and covered in golden fur. It had a mane that fell over its face, but four grand wings that were studded with gems in the shape of eyes protruded from its back, casting bitter shadows. Its face was relatively normal, although in Bobby’s opinion that was the most terrifying part of the beast; he could see the remnants of a human there, mainly in the eyes. The eyes of the monster were the same penetrating amber of an eagle’s, but they were so full of heartbreak and rage that Bobby couldn’t look for long before he had to tear his gaze away.  
“How dare you?!” the creature snarled, snapping razor sharp teeth at the man. “I show you hospitality; I let you eat and sleep in my castle and then you come and take my candies, my favourite candies?!” Any excuse Bobby could think of turned to dust in his mouth.   
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know!” he wailed, thrashing his head about wildly.  
“I should eat you on the spot!” the thing roared, lunging down at Bobby’s jugular.  
“Please no, I have a son!” That seemed to buy him some time. The beast stopped and cocked its head.  
“A son?” It purred in that curious voice of its which, whilst not being particularly low, was capable of striking terror into the bravest man’s heart. Its surreal eyes softened slightly in fascination. “I’m intrigued; tell me more.” The thing leant back on its hind legs, allowing Bobby room to sit up. The man swallowed.   
“Well, h-his name is Sam and he’s seventeen years old. He’s clever – very, very clever – and he reads a hell of a lot. He’s kind and he always put other people above himself. He’s my pride and joy.” The creature brought a paw to its face and rubbed it thoughtfully before the corners of its mouth pulled up in what Bobby thought was a terrifying attempt at a smile.  
“I have a preposition for you.”

Bobby frowned and his hands instinctively went to his pocket, where his trusty salt pouch was hidden.  
“What?”  
“I will let you go,” the beast said slowly. “If you bring your son to me.” Bobby’s jaw set and he shook his head furiously.  
“No, absolutely not. I refuse to let you take him!”  
“Then I will just have to eat you,” the creature said nonchalantly. “And your Sam will be alone. At least with me he’ll have company.”  
“He’ll be a prisoner,” Bobby spat. The monster scoffed.  
“We are all prisoners, in one way or another. Please, Sam will have it easy with me. He will live like… like a prince.” The creature chuckled and Bobby felt his stomach lurch.  
“I don’t know…” he trailed off.   
“I will not hurt him. I can promise you, he will have a far better life with me than he could ever have with you.” Bobby’s eyes narrowed and he squared his shoulders.  
“That’s not true!” The beast gave an awkward shrug and stared at Bobby.   
“Your choice, please.” 

Bobby took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he debated his options before opening them again.  
“I will go and ask Sam. If – and only if – he agrees, I will let you take him.” The beast gave that horrifying grimace once again.  
“I don’t trust you quite that much,” it said. “I will allow you to write a letter to your Sam. It will be delivered to him tonight and we will await his reply.” Bobby nodded once and the beast gave a roar. There was a scuttling noise when two voices piped up from behind the creature.  
“Yes, Master?” they said in unison, both low and growly, as though they’d each taken a shot of gravel followed by an entire packet of cigarettes.   
“I want you to take our guest to his room and then have a letter delivered to his son, Sam. It looks like we’re going to have a new resident someday soon!” The beast then bounded away, escaping upstairs and taking a turn down the east corridor.   
“Yes, Master!” There was more scuttling when Bobby felt something hard bash his shin. He looked down and yelped; in front of him was an ebony clock with black hands and a pair of wide amethyst eyes and an oak candlestick studded with two emeralds that also acted as eyes. The candlestick prodded him with one of his candles.  
“I do recognise you,” it gasped, gems shining. It broke into a grin and tugged on his trouser leg. “Come with me, Monsieur!”  
“T-the candlestick is… it’s talking!” he spluttered.   
“Yes, I am afraid he does that an awful lot,” the clock sighed, before looking sympathetically at Bobby. “You grow used to it after a while.” 

***

Sam was about to retire to bed when a voice called out to him to stop. He looked round in the darkness, expecting his father, but there was nobody there.   
“Hello?” he said. The only person who answered him was his echo. With a shrug he shut the door and turned, only to step on a cream envelope that he was certain wasn’t on the floor before. He picked it up and opened it carefully. Inside was a folded sheet of thick silver paper. On it was what seemed to be the result of a chicken dipping its feet in extremely expensive ink. Sam instantly recognised the handwriting to be Bobby’s.  
“But where did Papa get such expensive stationary?” he mumbled, reading the text.

Cher Sam,  
I am writing to you from Château Filou. You’re probably wondering why I’m in such a fancy place and not at the convention; in truth Sam, there have been some complications. I won’t beat around the bush; I am never returning home. I am writing to tell you not to come looking for me. I want you to live your life and not waste it trying to find me.   
I love you, boy.  
Papa.

Sam’s hand clutched the paper so tightly it scrunched up and at any other time Sam would’ve been mollified he’d damaged such beautiful paper but right then he couldn’t care less. Hot angry tears began to well up in his eyes and he squeezed them shut, breathing deeply to try and steady the hammering of his heart. From outside he heard a whinny. He looked out the window and saw a dark blob cutting through the night and sprinting towards the house; however, the snorts and whinnies of terror made it clear it was Chevrolet. Sam kicked the door open and ran to the startled stallion, running his hands along her neck and soothing her as best he could.  
“It’s okay Chevy, it’s Sam,” he whispered, tangling his fingers in her mane. She snorted and rested her large head in his hands. “Did you get lost from Papa?” The horse tossed her head back and whinnied, which Sam took as a ‘yes’. He growled low in his throat and went to grab his cloak from the peg by the door and a lantern before mounting Chevy.  
“Come on baby, we need to find Papa.” The horse snorted despondently but began to trot back in the direction from which she came. 

Sam’s journey was somewhat uneventful, with the first fingers of the morning wrapping themselves around Chevy’s reigns and guiding her along without much instruction from her rider. Amongst the trees Sam could see the luminescent eyes of the wolves, but they didn’t attack; instead, they chose to watch Sam and snarl as he made his way through the forest. He halted Chevy once they reached a steep slope and looked down; buried amongst the filth and mulch was his father’s woodchopper. Sam cried in triumph and dismounted Chevy before leading her carefully down the inclination. Once safely at the bottom Sam remounted and continued forward, pulling his cloak tighter around him as the atmosphere seemed to shift. He entered an open space and looming above him was a grandiose Gothic structure that he instinctively knew to be Château Filou. Tying Chevy to the inside gate he approached the main door and knocked.

***

“Master, the boy is here!” Gabriel’s head snapped up from looking at the rose. Castiel was stood in the doorway, ticking nervously. The Prince chuckled and rose to his full height (which really wasn’t all that impressive; he’d at least hoped the transformation would’ve made him taller but he was still a measly 5”7).   
“Excellent! I trust everything is ready for his stay with us?”  
“Indeed sire but…” The clock stopped and looked down at the floor, as though he were trying to build up the courage to speak.   
“What is it Cassie?” Gabriel demanded and the former hand servant jumped.   
“I was wondering if he really is going to be the one to break the curse. I have my doubts about him.” Gabriel’s eyes softened and he smiled at him.  
“He will, Cas,” he assured, turning back to the rose as the clock shuffled out the room. “He has to be.”

***  
The great door opened and Sam braced himself to be faced with imminent danger but to his surprise there was no one in the doorway.  
“You must be Bobby’s kid.” The Singer boy jumped and looked round in surprise. “Down here.” Sam lowered his gaze and gasped. A candlestick was staring up at him, grinning. “Hey.”   
“Y-y-you’re a… a... ”  
“A candlestick, yes. If you don’t mind, I’m hoping we can get past that.” The object offered him one of his candles. “Dean Winchester.”  
“Samuel Singer,” he replied, carefully taking the candle and shaking it as he tried to get over the strangeness of the situation.  
“Pleased to meet you Sammy,” the candlestick said cheerily before gesturing for him to enter.   
“It’s Sam,” the Singer boy said absently, although he wasn’t too bothered; at that moment, he was enthralled by his majestic surroundings. Oh sure, the entrance hall was gloomy and filled with cobwebs but there was a certain charm about the place that gave it an aura of grandeur. Dean looked up at Sam and chuckled to himself.  
“It sure is, kid.” The Singer boy frowned and looked inquisitively at the candlestick but he was already charging ahead, hopping along at such a pace Sam had to break into a light jog to keep up with him. Eventually they reached a door that was being guarded by two footstools. Sam blinked as Dean shooed them away.  
“Um…?”  
“Oh, we call them the Hellhounds,” Dean said as if that explained everything. Sam nodded uncertainly and opened the door before crying out in relief.  
“Papa!”

Bobby looked up from his perch on the bed, his expression a mix of joy, fury and terror. He ran to Sam and enveloped him in a bone crushing hug before smacking him upside the head.  
“Dammit boy, didn’t I say don’t come looking for me?”  
“I know Papa, but I had to know you were alright; I couldn’t leave you, I couldn’t!” He could feel his Adam’s apple bobbing as he forced the lump of bile in his throat down. His father’s shoulders slumped slightly and he sighed, running a hand across his chin.  
“‘Course you couldn’t, you’re your daddy’s boy.” From across the room Dean snorted. Bobby’s gaze flicked nervously at the candlestick, but the object didn’t seem too bothered by the scene before him, instead choosing to flirt with a duster he called Lisa. Sam shook his head and hugged his father once again.  
“Regardless, I’m so glad you’re alive!”  
“I won’t be for long if you don’t leave. Sam, if this monster finds you he’ll keep you in my place.”  
“I don’t care; I want him to!”  
“Sam, you don’t know what you’re saying,” Bobby warned. “This is no ordinary person.”  
“I doubt he’s anything I can’t handle,” Sam said cockily, tossing his head back.  
“Oh really?” All the colour drained from Bobby’s face as he stared over Sam’s shoulder at the source of the sugary question. Sam turned his head to follow his father’s gaze and stopped dead as he came face to face with Gabriel for the first time.

***

Gabriel could feel his heart hammering in his chest. Yes, this could definitely be the one who would break the curse. It didn’t bother him that Sam was a male – at this point he hadn’t the time to be picky – and in all honesty, it wasn’t like the boy was hard on the eyes.   
“I doubt he’s anything I can’t handle,” he heard the boy boast. Gabriel’s eyebrow raised and he smirked; he was certainly headstrong. Time to make his debut.  
“Oh really?” Gabriel had to resist the temptation to laugh at Bobby’s reaction and he braced himself as Sam turned around. However, the boy’s reaction was completely unexpected. He didn’t scream, or cry, or gasp, or faint; indeed, he didn’t do anything. He just stood there and looked curiously at Gabriel, without a hint of disgust or pity. It was almost as though he were emotionless.  
“Well, you were right that he’s no ordinary person,” Sam said eventually, his tone revealing nothing. Dean broke away from Lisa to observe the three ways staring contest, with Gabriel fixed on Sam and both the Singer men focused on him.   
“I wouldn’t even consider myself a person anymore,” Gabriel replied calmly, the right corner of his mouth pulling back to reveal a sharp canine. “I mean really, how many people do you know with wings?”  
“I know that there are angels,” Sam said.  
“Well believe me, I’m no angel.” The tension between them was electric, a buzzing wire of vibrant blue. From behind his son Bobby was hopping from foot to foot, anticipating Sam’s next move.  
“I’m willing to take that challenge.” The boy stepped forward then, moving so close to Gabriel that the Prince had to look up in order for them to make eye contact. “I will stay here in my father’s place.”  
“Sam, no!” Bobby cried but his son ignored him.  
“Are you aware of what that means?” Gabriel asked. “It means never seeing your father again. You can never leave.” Sam contemplated this for a moment before nodding steadily.  
“My Papa will be safe. That is all that matters to me.” Gabriel grinned and clicked his fingers twice. Dean stood to the side as two swords entered the room.  
“Take Monsieur Singer to his horse. Make sure he gets home safely,” Gabriel commanded. Dean balked and his head snapped to Bobby. “Horse?” But no one paid him any mind; the swords twanged in acknowledgement and immediately began prodding Bobby out the room, screaming for his son. Sam’s face crumpled as he watched his father go, reaching out for him as Gabriel looked on impassively. It was only when Bobby’s screams had faded completely that Sam dared look at the beast.  
“You didn’t even let me say goodbye,” he whispered. Gabriel felt his heart flutter slightly but he ignored it.  
“This is your room now. I hope you will be happy here.” Then, with a curt nod he swept out the room. From behind him he could hear Sam crying. 

This was going to be a long forever.


	3. Adaptation

“This kid’s not worth it.” Gabriel was pacing up and down the dining room, paws behind his back as Dean and Castiel sat on the table watching him. A fine meal of all types of sweet things was laid out with two places but Sam was nowhere to be seen, although that was nothing new; he hadn’t left his room since his arrival. “He’s been here nearly two months now and I only have ten more months to break the curse!”  
“You just need to be patient,” Castiel soothed.  
“Yeah! If I know Sammy, he loves to be wooed,” Dean supplied, snickering to himself before grabbing a pie and plunging one of his candles into the filling, licking it off with relish. Gabriel shot him a withering look and slumped in his chair.   
“I’m trying, I really am!” Dean raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, subtly wiping his sticky candle on Castiel’s back.   
“Are you really Sire?” Gabriel’s head snapped up and he frowned at the candlestick.   
“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
“It’s just that you’re not going out of your way to visit him. You just stare all melancholic at him through that magic mirror of yours and you don’t give him any reason to want to talk to you.”   
“Right, because you’re so good with relationships,” the Prince snapped. Dean glanced at Castiel, who looked away and focused on the beast.  
“You need to seduce him Sire. Make him see beyond your…” He trailed off as he tried to pick his words carefully.  
“Body hair?” Gabriel said dryly before sighing and snatching at a beignet. “I don’t know… maybe I’ll just have to accept that I’m always going to be a monster.”  
“Now stop it!” The trio turned to see a stout white teapot with brown painted flowers stood in the doorway, a chipped teacup of the same pattern by her side. “You’re not a quitter, Sire; you never have been!”  
“Glad to see you have faith in me Ellen,” Gabriel said weakly as she hopped up onto the table. “But I don’t know how to make Sam want me.”  
“Find a common interest. Now let’s see, what’s Sam interested in?”  
“Books!” the little teacup chirruped, grinning up at her mother.  
“That’s true, he loves reading!” Dean cried triumphantly. “Nice job, Jo!” The teacup’s eyes shone with pride and she giggled.  
“Thanks Dean,” she simpered. Castiel glowered in the china’s direction and folded his arms.   
“Maybe if we lead him to the library? You wait there for him, surprise him and build common ground.”  
“What if he runs?” Gabriel said desperately.   
“Then we lock the library,” Dean shrugged. “If you don’t try, you’ll never succeed.” The beast growled low in his throat but he couldn’t help but admit that it was a good idea. And if it failed?

Well, he’d already accepted he was probably going to be a hairy winged beast forever so it wasn’t as big a deal as it should have been.

***

Sam was sat on his bed, legs crossed as he gazed out the window. His room overlooked the beautiful gardens. The hedge maze was wild and overgrown and the ivy and roses had grown so huge they’d turned the grounds into a thorny jungle. However, the fragrant flowers attracted so much wildlife that it breathed life into the thicket and made it hum with energy. It was like looking at Paradise or one of his books come to life. Sam sighed and rolled onto his side.  
“What’s wrong with you?” his closet, Charlie, asked.   
“I’m bored. I want to go and explore the castle but I don’t want to leave my room.”  
“In case you encounter the Master?” Sam nodded and Charlie heaved herself an inch closer to the bed. “You know, he’s really not as bad as you’d think.”   
“Have you seen him?!” Sam cried, staring at the closet as though she’d gone delusional.   
“Have you seen me?” Charlie responded, opening her doors to reveal her contents (which was mainly dominated with plaid shirts and the occasional suit). “I’m a talking closet, for crying out loud! Looks aren’t everything Sam.” The Singer boy pouted and wrapped his arms round his knees.   
“He’s not a nice person,” he grumbled petulantly, pouting.   
“Perhaps,” Charlie said thoughtfully. “Or maybe he’s just lonely. He longs for someone who understands him and, whilst we’re all hopelessly loyal to him, none of us servants know anything about him, even those of us who have been present since his childhood. I’d give him a chance, if I were you.”   
“If you love him so much, why don’t you marry him?” She snorted and closed her doors with a bang.  
“Honey, I came out the closet long ago.” She sniggered at her own joke and, for the first time in a long time, Sam felt himself laughing too.

Just then, a knock on the door brought them out of their happy state. It opened and Dean and Castiel entered the room, Dean bounding ahead with a huge grin on his face whilst Cas shuffled awkwardly after him.  
“Hey there!” Dean cried, leaping onto the bed and snuggling next to Sam. “So, what are we girls gossiping about?”  
“On the fastest way to burn down wax, actually,” Charlie retorted, smirking as Dean self-consciously looked at his candles.  
“Alright, fair enough, you win.” He nudged Sam and rolled his eyes with a grin, to which Sam smiled back meekly. Castiel coughed.  
“Getting back to the task at hand; Sam, Dean and I have a preposition for you.”  
“The beast doesn’t want me, does he?” Sam groaned. All three objects winced simultaneously.   
“He prefers ‘Master’, ‘Sire’ or ‘Gabriel’,” Dean explained. “Anyway to answer your question no, he has nothing to do with this. It’s all us.”  
“Dean and I would like to show you the library,” Castiel offered, smiling politely. “It’s absolutely huge and we have at least one book on every subject you can think of.” Sam contemplated this, biting the inside of his cheek to fight back a grin.  
“Do you have any Carver Edlund?” Dean whooped.  
“An entire section’s dedicated to Monsieur Edlund!” That did it; Sam was already out the door. Dean clapped Castiel on the back and hurried after the boy, feeling overwhelmingly proud of himself. 

The library was in the west wing of the castle, so there was a fair trek ahead of them. To pass the time, Sam asked his guides questions about the castle.  
“So, how long have you guys been, ur…?” Sam waved his hands awkwardly over them.   
“Household objects, you mean?” Dean laughed and looked at Cas. “I’m not entirely sure, you know.”  
“Seventeen years, two months, thirty days, twenty minutes, thirty-four seconds,” Castiel said automatically before adding, “It seems like we’ve been this way forever.”  
“What happened?” Dean sighed and shook his head.  
“The Master lost his compassion.” Sam frowned and mulled over this.  
“There was a story when I was a kid, about a Prince who got cursed by an Enchanter. Is that what happened to Gabriel?” Neither said anything, but Sam already knew the answer. Sensing the tense atmosphere, he decided to change the subject.  
“So, how many rooms are in the castle overall?” Again, Dean looked at Castiel to elaborate.  
“Five hundred and sixty three.”   
“And I can go in all of them?” Sam asked excitedly. The two guides shared a look and Dean rubbed the back of his ‘neck’.   
“All but the east wing.”  
“What’s in the east wing?” Sam asked curiously but Castiel shook his head.  
“We’re not supposed to talk about it. All we know is that it’s forbidden.” Dean turned and noticed the glint in Sam’s eye, a trait that he was all too familiar with. “Uh-uh, don’t even think about it.”  
“Think about what?” Sam asked innocently.  
“I know that look. You’re thinking of going to the east wing.” Dean pointed a candle at the boy, a tiny flame coming to life on the wick. “I mean it Sammy, don’t even consider going there.”  
“I won’t,” Sam said flippantly.   
“Promise?”  
“Promise. And it’s Sam.” Dean hummed in acknowledgment and stopped in front of two doors that looked like chocolate bars.   
“This is the library,” Castiel said grandly, running a hand over the mahogany doorframe with a small smile. “When I was a human I would work in here, organising the books and taking care of them. We used to have about three hundred books coming in every month and I would categorize them as…” Sam nodded, trying not to appear uninterested in the clock’s story. However, Dean could sense the boy’s impatience to see the room and nudged Cas in his side. The clock coughed and smiled awkwardly. “Anyway. May I present… the library.” With Dean’s combined strength they pushed the doors open and Sam faced Heaven.

The library was easily the most beautiful room in the entire castle. It was larger than Sam’s cottage with ladders leading to platforms and further shelves of books. All but the north wall was covered in bookshelves, piled high with musty tomes and novels that had all been read at least once in their life times. The north wall was made entirely of glass, looking out at the forest, which seemed non-threatening in the warm sunlight. A crystal chandelier sent fragments of light cascading from the ceiling, which was painted with images of cherubs dancing on clouds. In each corner was a secluded cubbyhole, complete with soft armchairs, lamps and tables. Sam ran up and down the length of the bottom level, running his fingers along the spines of the various books that blessed the room.   
“This is incredible,” he breathed, looking at Dean and Castiel with glittering eyes. Cas laughed and gestured to the second level.   
“Everything’s alphabetised by author here; up on the second level is the first half of the ‘E’ section. You’ll find every piece of work Carver Edlund’s ever done up there.” Sam was up the ladder before Cas had even finished his sentence. Dean chuckled and pulled the clock out of the library. Phase two of their plan was complete.

***

Gabriel could hear Sam’s excited footsteps long before the boy made it up to the second level. His breath caught in his throat and he sunk lower in his armchair, drawing his knees up to his chin as Sam got closer. He heard the boy gasp and the Prince took that as his cue.  
“Carver Edlund, huh?” He held his paws up in defence as Sam yelped, dropping several books on the floor as he did so. The boy’s demeanour instantly changed, his jaw clenching and his eyes narrowing in the most violent bitchface Gabriel had ever seen. He stooped down and began retrieving his novels. “Here, let me help!”   
“Ne me touche pas!” Sam hissed, recoiling as Gabriel bent down to assist him. “Don’t you ever touch me.” Gabriel winced at the boy’s harsh words before leaning back and folding his arms coolly.   
“I wasn’t going to molest you or anything, Samsquatch,” he said. Sam stopped and looked inquisitively at Gabriel.  
“What did you just call me?” he deadpanned.   
“Samsquatch. Why, you got a problem with it?” Gabriel challenged. Sam shook his head.  
“Just an odd choice of words, seeing as you’re clearly the hairier of us.” Gabriel spluttered disbelievingly as Sam smirked at him.   
“How dare you speak to a Prince like that?!” Gabriel managed. Sam shrugged, clutching his books to his chest.  
“Oh, I dare.”  
“I should have you thrown in the dungeon,” Gabriel spat, taking a step closer to Sam.  
“Bring it on,” Sam countered, closing the distance between them even further until Gabriel’s wings were touching the boy’s forearm. They stayed like that for many moments before Sam gave a sharp laugh and spun round on his heel. Gabriel shook himself out of his stupor and called after Sam.  
“Hey, where are you going?”  
“I have the books I wanted; there’s no reason for me to stay here anymore,” Sam replied easily, holding his newly acquired books with one hand whilst supporting himself down the stairs with the other. “It’s been fun, beast!” Gabriel’s nostrils flared as the boy skipped out the room and he could feel the rage boiling in his stomach.   
“Argh!” he screeched in frustration, swiping his paw at a bookshelf and sending over three hundred books toppling to the ground below. Dean, Cas, Ellen and Jo peered round the doorway and shook their heads despairingly; this was going to be harder than they’d originally thought.

***

Sam hurried down the corridor, holding onto the books so tightly his knuckles were threatening to burst through his skin. From behind him he could hear a scream of frustration and the clatter of books falling to the floor. He could feel unwanted tears springing to his eyes as he thundered down the corridors. At some point he must’ve ran past his bedroom, for when he came to a halt he was completely and utterly lost. Sam looked round him and noticed a considerable difference to the rest of the castle. Whilst every other wing was - despite being dark and gloomy - considerably clean this room was booby-trapped with cobwebs thicker than rope. Ragged curtains blocked any light that managed to filter through the grime that sat on the single window. On the wall was a mauled portrait of a man, although his features were too marred for Sam to identify him. But there was one redeemable feature that Sam felt his eyes gravitating towards; underneath a glass bell jar was a magenta rose, glowing with a soft blue light. It was luscious and full, but resting by the stem were seventeen velveteen petals, curled and brown. Sam couldn’t resist it; he put both hands on the side of the bell jar and began to lift. 

“NO!” Sam released his hold on the bell jar as Gabriel pelted into the room, bowling into Sam and knocking him against the wall. The Prince wrapped his paws around the jar, eyes wide and breath shaky as he stared down at the rose; however, the flower was fine. He turned his venomous gaze on Sam, whose nose was now leaking a thin stream of red. Gabriel stood up and, although Sam was far taller than him, his presence had the Singer boy cowering in fear. “Get. Out.” Sam clutched onto the curtain uncertainly, looking around for an escape route that kept him furthest from Gabriel. The beast roared and his wings flapped violently, sending whirlwinds ripping through the room. “I SAID GET OUT!” He lunged at Sam and the boy stumbled past him, sprinting for the door and practically flying down the stairs. He ignored Dean, who hollered after him from his perch on one of the many tables. He flung the front doors open and continued to run, falling over his legs several times as he fought his way into the forest. The sky had become overcast and the canopy blocked out the light, so Sam was sprinting blindly through the trees. He was so focused on running that he didn’t notice the tree root protruding from the ground. His foot hooked into it and he landed flat on his face. Sam spat mud out of his mouth and rubbed at his eyes with a fist when a low snarl stopped him in his tracks. He looked up slowly and was met with the foaming mouth of a wolf, its canines bared and its eyes flashing.  
“Heh… good dog,” he whimpered. The wolf didn’t respond; instead the volume of its snarling amplified and as Sam looked round he found himself being closed in on by a pack. “Oh Dieu,” he breathed and braced himself for impending death. The first wolf growled and crouched down when suddenly it yelped. Sam looked up in surprise as Gabriel’s wings pinned down the creature. The Prince roared and sunk his teeth in the flesh of the canine’s neck before ripping its throat out. He tossed the carcass to the side and leapt at another one, snapping at its muzzle. The Prince was too engrossed in his skirmish that he didn’t notice two wolves running at him from behind.  
“Gabriel!” Sam hollered, pushing himself to his feet and grabbing the first weapon he could find, which happened to be a large stick. He brandished it like a club and brought it down on the wolves’ skulls, but not before one of them managed to take a chunk out of Gabriel’s wing. The Prince roared and span round, accidentally knocking Sam over as he did. Grabbing the concussed animals he flung their bodies across the forest, sending them flying into the trees with a sickening crack. He let out a bloodcurdling cry and glared at the other members of the pack, who had been observing with panic. Wisely, the creatures whimpered and scuttled off, leaving Sam and Gabriel alone. The Prince sat up and Sam cautiously approached him. Gabriel’s wing was bleeding profusely, the beautiful feathers now stained with rapidly clotting blood. He looked at Sam with a despairing look.   
“Vous êtes une douleur dans mon cul,” he breathed before collapsing to the ground. 

***

When Gabriel came to, he was laying on the floor of one of his many studies, surrounded by Dean, Castiel, Ellen and Jo. A fire was crackling pleasantly in the fireplace and his head was swimming slightly.  
“Gabriel, you’re awake!” Dean cried and the others visibly relaxed.  
“What am I doing on the floor?” he mumbled, trying to push himself up.  
“Don’t get up, your wing’s injured.” Gabriel looked over his shoulder at Sam, who was in the process of ripping a strip from his shirt.   
“That’s right, a wolf mauled it whilst I was trying to rescue you,” he said wryly, resting his chin on his paws. “How did I get back here anyways?”  
“I dragged you back.” Gabriel studied Sam’s face to see if there was any humour in it, but the boy was stony faced.   
“You’re not kidding.”   
“I’m stronger than I look,” Sam said curtly, which made Dean smile proudly. The boy poured a bowl of potpourri into a drawer and grabbed some whiskey from the side. “Ellen, mind pouring some water in here?”  
“Of course darling,” the teapot said, tipping herself forward and pouring hot water into the empty bowl. Sam uncorked the alcohol and gestured to Jo, but Ellen stopped him. “You are not measuring out the alcohol content with my daughter!”  
“I’m old enough to handle it, Mama,” Jo whined but Ellen was adamant. Sam smiled.  
“Don’t worry Jo, my Papa was just the same.” Gabriel watched guiltily as Sam’s face fell slightly as he reminisced about his father. Dean looked rather crestfallen too and Castiel awkwardly patted him before coughing. Sam snapped back into reality and sloppily poured some of the alcohol into the water before swishing it together. Dipping the shirt strip into the concoction he looked warningly at Gabriel. “This will hurt.”  
“I’m a big boy Sam, I think I can handle it.” The Singer boy grinned and placed the sodden rag on the wound. Instantly Gabriel broke into an ear splitting roar that had everyone cowering for cover.  
“MERDE!” he hollered, turning to press his face to Sam’s. “That hurt!”  
“I did warn you ‘big boy’,” Sam snapped.  
“You’re a cocky dick; I saved your life!”  
“You’re rude; you ruined my life!” Gabriel paused to think of his next insult.  
“It’s your fault I’m injured, you ran away!”  
“Because you assaulted me!” Sam cried back lividly.  
“You shouldn’t have been in the east wing!” Gabriel threw back triumphantly.  
“You should try and socialise with me instead of treating me like your prisoner!” The servants audibly sucked in a breath as they watched Gabriel fearfully. A million thoughts ran through his head and he tried to formulate a decent response. However, he soon realised that there was only one thing to say.   
“I’m sorry.” Everyone in the room collectively frowned, looking from one to the other in confusion as they tried to understand what Gabriel had said. Indeed, it was a big deal; not once in his life had he ever apologised for anything. Sam blinked.  
“Pardon?”   
“I said I’m sorry.” It was easier to say this time and he managed to maintain eye contact. “It was my fault; I shouldn’t have shouted at you.” Sam’s face relaxed into an easy smile and he put a hand on Gabriel’s paw.  
“Thank you,” he said softly. “And you’re not entirely to blame; I shouldn’t have gone into the east wing.” Gabriel could hear his heart stutter and it was at that moment he could see himself maybe having a life with Sam Singer yet.


	4. Bonding

The nine months that passed were a blur of colour and laughter. In all his life, Sam had never experienced so much or learnt so much. For one thing, he and Gabriel had grown closer; so much closer. In fact Sam would go so far as to say that the Prince seemed almost human again. He would sit in the library with Sam and read or they would explore the overgrown garden hunting for fireflies. There were times when they would talk until the sun rose or there were moments where they would say nothing at all, just sit in one another’s company and be content with it. Sometimes they bared their souls and other times they were children playing in a field. There was always a childish undertone to everything they did; if they weren’t sneaking into the kitchen to get food without the chef (an oven ironically nicknamed Famine due to his tendency to overfeed) noticing then Gabriel was rearranging the books in the library to annoy both Cas and Sam. They rarely went back to how they were before, with neither of them wanting to upset the delicate relationship they had built. Either way, they were always happy in one another’s company. 

One day, Sam and Gabriel were sat under the archway in the garden. It was a trellis abundant in cherry red roses and ivy that had somehow managed to fight off the harsh winter frost. The air was heavy with the smell of snow and flowers and Sam was struggling not to shiver against the cold. Gabriel noticed this and subtly scooted closer to Sam so that the boy was able to huddle up and conserve his heat.  
“It’s beautiful here,” Sam breathed, his breath turning into mist in the air.   
“My mother, Eden, always took great pride in her garden,” Gabriel explained, swinging his legs slightly as he looked round contentedly. “After she passed I took it upon myself to make sure it was always cared for in some way. I know it seems wild and overgrown but there is method in my madness.” Sam smiled understandingly and leant into Gabriel’s warmth slightly.  
“I think it’s beautiful. Your mother would be proud.”  
“Well, I can’t say I was a good son whilst she was alive.” He said it without an inch of pity, but rather a statement of fact; he hadn’t been good to her during her life.   
“What was she like?” Sam enquired. Gabriel pondered this for a moment before smiling.  
“She was a kind woman; the fairest ruler you can imagine. She always knew the right thing to say and she was the only person who could talk my father out of one of his raging tempers. She was stern though so I was always horrible to her, trying to rebel for no reason whatsoever. When I was sixteen she died. The King died when I was eighteen and I took up the throne for four months before… well, before this happened.” Gabriel shook his head and instinctively leant into Sam. “If only I had known, maybe I’d have tried harder.”  
“I never knew my mother.” Gabriel looked down at Sam inquisitively.   
“You want to talk about it?”  
“There’s not much to talk about,” Sam said with a vague hand gesture. “She died giving birth to me, my father said.”  
“Father… you mean Bobby?” Sam nodded.  
“Of course.” Gabriel was silent for a moment before coughing and getting to his feet.  
“I have important prince-y stuff to attend to… adieu.” And before Sam could say anything else he was barrelling into the castle, leaving the Singer boy to stare after him confusedly. 

***

“What do you mean you haven’t told him?!” Gabriel glared down at Dean, who was fidgeting uncomfortably under the Prince’s amber stare.  
“It’s not that I don’t want to!” Dean argued feebly. “But I can’t! He’s been with Bobby all his life, it’d do him no good to learn the truth.”  
“This isn’t about the truth, this is about Sam’s wellbeing!” The candlestick smirked and smiled challengingly at his superior.  
“You care about Sam’s wellbeing now?” Gabriel froze and his wings wrapped round him protectively.   
“I don’t think it’s any of your concern,” he said curtly.  
“Oh, well I think you’re wrong there,” Dean replied easily. “And you know you are.”  
“You shouldn’t talk to me like that Dean,” Gabriel snapped. The candlestick snorted and prodded Gabriel in his chest.  
“I’m just as important as you; one of your best friends, remember? In fact, your only friend aside from Cas.” He gestured over to the clock, who was stood on the right side of Gabriel’s armchair and was purposely rubbing his face with a rag. Gabriel’s wings slumped in defeat and he huffed.  
“Fine. Yes, I care about Sam. A lot, as a matter of fact. Which is why I think you should tell him!” Dean’s bravado melted and he pouted.  
“But I’m scared, Gabe!” Gabriel could see the genuine terror in his friend’s eyes and he sighed, smiling sadly.  
“You need to tell him,” he said.  
“Tell me what?”

Dean, Gabriel and Castiel span round to see Sam standing in the doorway, a pile of books in his arms.  
“N-nothing!” Dean cried, looking from Cas to Gabe in hopes of having back up, but they wisely refused to interfere. Sam raised a disbelieving eyebrow and reached down with one hand to pick Dean up. “Put me down Sam!”  
“Not until you tell me your dirty little secret,” Sam joked. Dean shot Gabriel the filthiest look he could muster, which didn’t have much effect due to his being… well, a candlestick. Finally he signed resignedly and looked up at Sam.  
“Fine, but you’re not going to like it.” Sam smiled in amusement and went to sit down at Gabriel’s feet, placing Dean on the coffee table as he did. Gabriel wrapped his arms protectively around Sam, knowing all too well what was coming next. The candlestick coughed gruffly and shuffled about, trying his best to get comfortable before squaring himself.   
“Sam, I’m afraid I’ve been lying to you.” The Singer boy leant forward in interest, restricted slightly by Gabe’s possessive grip.   
“Oh?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Are you going to tell me you’re actually a dildo?” This made both Gabriel and Castiel snort with laughter (although the latter stopped after Dean glared daggers at him, after which he promptly silenced himself).  
“Shut up, bitch!” Dean snapped before regaining his composure. “Truth is, I know more about you than I’ve let on. Sam,” he sighed, opening his arms wide. “I’m your brother.”

The world seemed to freeze for a moment as everyone’s attentions were focused solely on Sam. He stared at Dean in disbelief before looking up at Gabriel uncertainly.  
“Is this one of your jokes?” he asked hoarsely.  
“I wish it was kid,” Gabriel said sympathetically, stroking Sam’s hair. The boy turned back to Dean, whose bravado had dwindled considerably.  
“You’re… my brother?”  
“Yeah. I’m your older brother that went missing eleven years ago.” Sam’s face paled; he hadn’t confessed that to anyone.  
“H-how did you end up here?”  
“Dad brought me here.”  
“P-papa… you mean Bobby?” Sam whispered. Now it was Dean’s turn to look shocked.   
“Bobby? Uncle Bobby?” Then realisation dawned on him and his face collapsed. “Oh Sammy, I’m so sorry.”  
“What’re you talking about Dean?”  
“Sam… Bobby’s not our father.” 

Sam’s entire body tensed and for a moment and Gabriel considered checking his pulse. However, the idea was unnecessary.   
“WHAT?!” Gabriel jumped at Sam’s shriek and his grip instinctively got tighter. Sam thrashed in his arms, clawing at Dean. Castiel ran forward and valiantly pushed the candlestick aside, glaring at Sam as though he dared him to try anything. “Gabriel, let me go!”  
“No Sam.”  
“He’s a liar!”  
“He’s telling the truth.” Sam froze and looked up at Gabriel, his eyes wide and accusing.  
“You knew all this time and you never told me?” he hissed.  
“Dean didn’t want me to. Sam, please don’t get angry!” he said imploringly. However, his worry was unwarranted; Sam just slumped in defeat and leant into Gabriel, whose wings formed a slight cocoon around them.   
“Start from the beginning Dean,” he said wearily. Dean, who looked visibly relieved, pushed Castiel to the side and began his tale. 

“Our real father’s name was John Winchester. We had a mother too, Mary. We lived together on that farm outside of Laurence; do you know the one?”  
“The burnt Moulin?” Sam frowned. Dean nodded energetically.  
“Le Moulin Veneur, oui! Anyway, when you were six months old someone burnt down the mill. Dad managed to get us out but our mother got trapped by the flames and she perished.” He stopped and bowed his head silently, mourning his loss before continuing. “Our father went insane with grief, insisting that he was going to find the arsonist and get revenge. Our father began hunting remorselessly, obsessively. However, having us there was hindering his progress. He took us to his old friend Bobby and asked him to care for us whilst he hunted. Well, we lived with Bobby for six years before Dad showed up again one night, insisting that he’d found a lead and that he needed Bobby’s help. We weren’t supposed to know he’d come but I had woken up when I’d heard his voice. I ran downstairs and insisted he take me with him. Well, when Bobby refused to help he decided to take me with him instead. They had a huge fight but Dad wouldn’t listen; he threw me on his horse and we rode into the forest. Apparently mother’s killer lived there although I suspect that’s not true; Dad was a bit delusional, always had been. Anyway, it wasn’t long before we got pinned by the wolves. Dad made me climb up a tree whilst he tried fighting them off but…” He paused and Castiel put a hand on his shoulder supportively. Sam’s hand went to his mouth instinctively and he buried his face in one of Gabriel’s soft wings; he knew what had happened. Gabriel decided to intervene.   
“My mother was out walking with me and her companions when we heard crying. We looked up and saw Dean huddled in a tree, sobbing and shaking. I climbed up and talked to him before bringing him down. Mother insisted on taking him to the castle and, when Dean told her what happened to your parents she decided he was to live with us. Dean became my best friend and a couple of years later Cassie came and pretty soon we had a gang!” He grinned at Dean and Castiel, who were still holding onto one another. “We had some crazy times together; our days mainly involved raiding the pantry for pies!”  
“I never got to do things like that,” Sam said faintly, his bottom lip trembling slightly. Dean gently peeled Castiel off and hopped over to Sam, smiling up at him sadly and leaning into his stomach.  
“I’m so sorry I didn’t come back, Sammy. To be honest, I kept meaning to return but then I’d forget and… well truthfully I didn’t really want to go back. It seemed wrong to disturb the life you’d made.”  
“Papa always told me a mad man took you,” Sam said, wrapping his arms around Dean.  
“Well, he wasn’t entirely wrong,” the candlestick replied ruefully. Sam managed a laugh and rubbed at the tears that had fallen down his cheeks.   
“I should have known you were my brother, really.” Dean cocked his head inquisitively and Sam grinned. “I’ve always remembered your eyes. How green they were… are.” That made Dean’s candle light and he chuckled.   
“They are irresistible, am I right Cas?” he added, turning to wink at the clock, who was smiling serenely as he watched the scene unfold.   
“Oui,” he replied lightly, although his eyes told a completely different story. 

***

“Thanks for taking care of me earlier.” Sam and Gabriel were stood outside Sam’s room, both of them uncertain as to what they were supposed to be doing. “I’m still shocked, to be honest.”  
“It’s not every day you meet your long lost brother,” Gabriel agreed, smiling wryly. Sam smacked him playfully on the shoulder and leant against his door, his head tilted back so that he was staring up at the ceiling.   
“Sam Winchester… it sounds good, I have to admit.” Gabriel nodded and took a step closer. “But Bobby’s my Papa; my bloodline won’t dictate that to me.”  
“Family doesn’t end in blood,” Gabriel conceded, wrapping a hand around Sam’s bicep and squeezing. The Singer/Winchester boy turned sharply then, startling the Prince so much he cried out in alarm.   
“I just want you to know that you’re very important to me, Gabe,” he said, his words steady but his body giving away his true state. “And I owe you a lot. In fact, I think I…” He stopped and breathed out, his burnt sugar eyes glazing.   
“Sam?” Gabriel asked, breathless. The boy shook himself awake then and cocked his head.  
“Hm? Ah, it’s nothing. Goodnight Gabriel.” He turned to enter his room when the Prince grabbed him and span him round, invading his personal space so that their breath was mingling.   
“Sam, will you meet me in the ballroom tomorrow night, at about eleven?” He tried to sound cool and calm but the slight tremor at the end of his sentence wasn’t fooling anyone. Sam’s mouth quirked and he leant forward. Gabriel could feel his heart hammering and he began to meet Sam in the middle when the boy manoeuvred so that his mouth was at Gabriel’s ear.   
“Of course,” he whispered, ruffling the Prince’s mane with his breath. He pulled back and grinned before opening his door and stepping inside. “Is there a dress code?”  
“Porter rien!” Gabriel waggled his eyebrows. “Formal, s’il te plait.” Sam laughed and bowed low.  
“Your wish is my command, cherie!” And with that he closed the door, leaving Gabriel to freak out in the corridor.

***

“This was a bad idea.” Dean looked over in the direction of Gabriel’s voice, which sourced from behind the dressing screen. They were sat in Gabriel’s bedroom, with Dean and Castiel trying to find something appropriate for the Prince to wear. “A very bad idea.”  
“Porquoi? You have my blessing.” He smirked as Gabriel’s face popped round the screen, glaring at him. “Sire, you’ll be fine. Sam’s obsessed with you!”  
“You’re biased though.”  
“Ask Cas then, he’ll tell you!” Dean looked over at the clock, who was rummaging through a chest of drawer determinedly and comparing a fuchsia scarf with a citrus yellow one. He looked up and nodded.  
“I too have observed Monsieur Sam’s changing attitude towards you. I think you have built quite a bond.”  
“Not as profound as mine and Cas’ but you get the idea,” Dean snickered, which made Castiel stiffen and spin away. Gabriel laughed before stepping out from the screen grandly.   
“How do I look?” Dean and Castiel both homed their attentions onto their friend and gasped. The change was obvious; his wild and unruly mane had been trimmed and tied back with golden bows. His wings were glossy and reflected the light like tiny mirrors. His jacket was burgundy with golden piping and a yellow rose was pinned onto his breast. It wasn’t just his physical appearance either; Gabriel’s presence was empowering, as though his excitement was reverberating through the room and filtering into Dean.  
“Magnifique,” he said honestly and chuckled as Gabriel’s mouth pulled back into a grin that was so genuine it almost hurt to see. Just then the door to the boudoir opened and Ellen hopped in. She looked a nervous Gabriel over and took a gentle intake of breath.  
“How is it Ellie?” he whispered. She smiled, her eyes crinkling as she did, and nodded slightly.   
“Sam is ready for you.” Dean jumped onto the chaise longue and straightened Gabriel’s bowtie with a grin.  
“Show time.”

***

‘What the hell am I doing?’ Gabriel stood at the bottom of the stairway, wringing his paws nervously as he waited for Sam to emerge from his room. Ellen had gone up to help Charlie make some last minute preparations and Dean and Castiel had gone to the ballroom to organise the orchestra. His wings flapped enormously as doubt tore through the fabric of his being and, just as he was about to call the whole thing off, he heard a door open. His head snapped round and Charlie and Ellen were stood in the hallway, grinning from ear to ear. From out behind them stepped Sam and Gabriel felt his breath hitch in his throat. The boy looked glorious. His long brown hair had been teased and brushed so that it looked like a halo around his head. He was wearing a suit the colour of worn gold and, whilst on anyone else it would look distasteful, he modelled it in such a way it looked as though it were a part of him, as though he were made of gold. A burgundy rose was pinned to his lapel, picked fresh from the wildest part of the garden. His teeth were bared in a beautiful smile that captured the hearts of everyone. His frosted eyes shone with a newly found youth as he sought out Gabriel. When their eyes locked an arrow seemed to shoot between them, piercing Gabriel right in the centre of his heart, which he had long thought dead.   
“Bonjour,” Sam said softly, gliding down the stairs with an elegance that seemed unbefitting for his gangly limbs.   
“Bonjour,” Gabriel replied, breathlessly taking Sam’s hand in his and bending down to run his tongue over the knuckles in a pathetic attempt at a kiss. Sam, whilst his nose wrinkled slightly at the sensation, did not recoil and the embers of hope that had been writhing inside Gabriel flared into tiny sparks. “Vous avez l’air en pleine forme.”  
“Merci,” Sam replied, smiling gently. He didn’t return the compliment, although that was to be expected; Gabriel looked like a dog that had been done up for a pageant. He held his arm out for his companion to lace his through and led Sam to the ballroom.

The Prince was slightly overcome by the change in the room. Whilst the maids still made it their duty to clean the castle despite their change it had always been a poor attempt, partly due to the lack of fingers and Gabriel’s unappreciative attitude towards it. But now, with the promise of humanity spurring them on, the servants had gone above and beyond to make it the immaculate space it once was. The tiles shone like opals in moonlight and the walls, which were made entirely of glass, looked out on the hedge maze that was expertly lit with candelabras. The chandelier that hung from the ceiling was not lit; instead, a group of candles were dotted around the room so that only a subdued glow illuminated the room. In the farthest corner of the room a philharmonic orchestra was playing; a surreal event as the instruments were playing themselves, which roused a lot of questions within Gabriel but he shook his thoughts away as Sam gasped beside him.  
“Oh Gabe,” he breathed, leaning into the shorter being slightly.  
“Do you like it?” he asked, coiling an arm around Sam tenderly. Sam looked down at him, eyes sparkling.  
“Are you kidding? I love it!” Gabriel returned the smile and took both Sam’s hands in his.  
“Sam, everything here is yours. This castle has never been a home to me until the day you arrived. Now, I can truly say that this place and everything in it is yours and yours alone… if you want it, of course.” He ducked his head and looked down at the floor, overcome by a bout of nerves that thrived on making themselves known at the wrong times. However, he lifted his head as he heard Sam chuckle softly.   
“Gabriel, it would be my honour,” he replied and it was then that Gabriel’s heart was well and truly Sam’s.   
“On danse?” Sam nodded and, confidence restored, Gabriel grabbed the boy’s waist and began to spin him to the music, a delicate waltz that had been his mother’s favourite. The music came alive as they moved with it, their movements synchronising as their bodies learnt one another and adapted to suit each other’s needs. Gabriel’s wings walled them off from the eyes of the on-looking servants, containing them in such a way it was like they were dolls on a music box. He could feel his soul souring and they could have been flying for all he knew. He led the dance and, whilst the height difference made it slightly awkward, Sam managed to rest his head in the crook of Gabriel’s neck. As the music swelled he could feel their heartbeats counting off each beat until finally the strings of the violins faded and they were left in the middle of the ballroom, still swaying to the vibrations of the crescendo. Gabriel’s wings receded and he pulled back to look at Sam, who had tears in his eyes.  
“Sam, are you alright?” he asked immediately, reaching up to run his ‘thumb’ down the boy’s cheek, taking care not to scratch him. Sam sniffed and laughed slightly.  
“I’m fine, it’s just… I wish Papa could see me now.” Gabriel’s mouth turned downwards before an idea sprang to mind. He grinned and took Sam’s hand in his.  
“I have something to show you.”

They were in the east wing. Gabriel could feel Sam’s grip on his arm tighten and he laughed slightly.  
“I’m not going to chase you away, Sammich,” he reassured him, leading him towards the bell jar. He rested a paw against the crystal, encouraging Sam to do the same. He was acutely aware of Dean, Castiel and Ellen watching them from the door but he didn’t mind. Sam looked inquisitively from the rose to him and he shook his head; it was against the rules to tell Sam of the deal between him and the Enchanter.   
“This isn’t what I wanted to show you.” He turned and went to a chest of drawers that resided under the destroyed portrait. He removed a silver hand mirror from the top drawer and brought it over to Sam, whom he handed it to carefully. “This mirror has been in my family for centuries; it’s said to be a direct gift from God himself, although I think my mother might have made that up to entertain me when I was younger. It is magic, though. All you have to do is ask it to show you someone or something and it will appear within the glass.” Sam’s mouth opened and his grip on the mirror changed, as though he were holding a burning coal in his hand.   
“Does it work?” Gabriel nodded.  
“I used it to keep an eye on you when you first came here.” Sam raised an eyebrow at him.  
“Stalker.”  
“La ferme,” he laughed fondly. “Just try it.” Sam took a deep breath and gazed directly into the glass.  
“Show me my Papa.” Immediately Sam’s reflection blurred and warped as the image in the glass changed to show a ramshackle cottage. Sam gasped as the scene zoomed in to show the inside of the home; his reaction was not a happy one. 

***

The months of solitude had not been kind to Bobby. His disposition bordered on hysterical, his days spent running through the village of Laurence begging everyone he could find to help him vanquish the beast lurking in the abandoned castle miles away. Everywhere he went he was cast away, until eventually someone referred him to Doctor Crowley, the owner of the psychiatric asylum commonly referred to amongst the townsfolk as ‘La Cage’. Under Crowley’s diagnosis he had been placed under house arrest ‘for fear of harming himself and/or others’. Bobby, in his confinement, spent his time obsessively studying the history of Gabriel’s family and figuring out a way to break Sam free. However, as the winter months rolled by, Bobby came down with a severe flu that weakened him to the point where he bared more resemblance to a skeleton than a man. In his death bed, he clutched onto a wooden soldier that he had carved for Sam as a child, mumbling his son’s name alongside his prayers. 

***

Sam’s hand flew to his mouth as he stared down in horror at the scene unfolding within the mirror.   
“Oh Papa,” he sobbed, his shoulders heaving as he turned the mirror away. He looked to Gabriel, whose mouth was set in a tight line as he fought back his own emotion. “Gabe, I have to go to him.” Gabriel’s eyes trained onto Sam and, in the silence, you could almost hear his heart break.   
“I don’t want you to leave me,” he whispered sadly, his wings wilting. A tiny smile turned Sam’s lips upwards and he took Gabriel’s paws in his hands.  
“I promise I will return; just give me a month to tend to my father, then I will come back to you.” Gabriel quietly reflected on this before looking enquiringly at Castiel.   
“Twenty-one days,” he said somberly. The Prince’s eyes turned to Ellen, who nodded miserably. Dean was paralysed, watching the scene unfold before him in disbelief. Gabriel gave a heavy sigh and looked back at Sam, who was anticipating his answer.  
“If it will make you happy,” he said morosely. Sam’s eyes welled up and he wrapped his arms around Gabriel, burying his face in the golden fur that lined his body.  
“I will come back,” he whispered, and Gabriel could only nod. As Sam began to release him the beast grabbed his shoulder and placed the mirror in his hand.   
“If you ever want to see me,” he said, his voice tinged with an emotion Sam couldn’t quite place.   
“Of course,” the boy replied, running a hand along Gabriel’s cheek. He leant into Sam’s palm, eyes closing before he gently removed it and went to the window, his back turned on the boy.  
“There will be a carriage waiting for you at the stables. Au revoir.” The finality in his tone was deafening. A sense of unwelcome fell over Sam and he fled the room, barrelling past the three servants, who watched him aghast.   
“Sam, come back!” Dean hollered, beginning to hop after him when Castiel put a restraining arm before him. The candlestick cried out in frustration and slammed a candle against the doorframe. “Dammit! He was our last shot!”  
“I was so hopeful,” Castiel muttered, his eyes shimmering as he and Ellen began to shuffle away, Dean trudging after them. Gabriel ignored them, his focus trained entirely on the path leading up to the entrance of the castle. He watched lethargically as the carriage clattered away, Sam’s face hidden from view. Rain began to pelt down from charcoal clouds, melting away the pure snow and turning it to slush. As the carriage shrank from view and disappeared into the forest the Beast let out a heartbroken roar, so loud that even the moon ducked from view.


	5. Realisation

Two weeks and five days had passed and Bobby’s health had greatly improved. When Sam had arrived on their doorstep Bobby thought it was a hallucination; however, upon realising his son was really home, he broke down into a fit of feverish tears of joy, promptly joined by Sam. He made his son tell him all about his captivity, dissecting every detail and living the year vicariously through Sam’s words. When Sam told him about reuniting with Dean Bobby froze.  
“T-that candlestick was your brother?” Sam nodded and the old man almost collapsed. “What did he tell you?”  
“Everything,” Sam said simply. Bobby’s shoulders sagged and he guiltily looked away.  
“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell ya before,” he began, but Sam silenced him.  
“Papa, it’s fine; I don’t blame you, or Dean, or John. I have long since forgiven all of you.” The boy scooped Bobby into a rib-breaking hug and Bobby clutched onto him tightly, disbelievingly; his son was truly home.

However, whilst Bobby was relieved to have Sam back, the boy himself felt out of place. For the first couple of days he found himself talking to inanimate objects and being surprised when they didn’t respond. He hung Gabriel’s mirror in his room, caring for it so greatly that it was the only clean object in his possession. Now and then he’d open the doors of his (non-talking) closet and see the golden suit. He never dared take it out, for fear the poverty in the air would stain the fabric and wring it dry of the memories it held. It was safe to say that, whilst his brain and body was in his humble cottage in Laurence, his heart was still well and truly in Château Filou. However, he was so focused on nursing Bobby back to health that he didn’t realise the rapid passing of time. One day, in the late hours of New Year’s Eve, he was overwhelmed by the need to look in the mirror.  
“Show me Dean,” he commanded and was overcome by the sense of familiarity as his image blurred. He found himself looking in the now extremely filthy ballroom, where all the servants were gathered. Dean was stood on the outside of the ring, arms folded and his face murderous as he glared at Castiel’s chest, which declared that the time was ten minutes to ten. Ellen was comforting Jo, who was sniffling in the corner. Indeed, every face of every servant was the same, permanently paralyzed in an expression of deep remorse. Confused, Sam gave another command to see Gabriel. The image blurred again and this time he was staring at the trellis where he and Gabriel had sat on that particularly snowy day. As the scene came into focus, Sam almost screamed. The foliage, once a vibrant and healthy green, had faded away so that it now bore resemblance to brown paper. The roses, whilst still being their startling red, now looked like blood clots amongst the desolation. And there, within it all, was Gabriel. His petit form was huddled up in the crush of grey snow, his moulting wings trying to protect him from the harsh cold. He was shivering but he did nothing about it, instead staring blankly into the distance. Streaks of ice made criss-cross patterns down his cheeks from where his unattended tears solidified in the night. His fur was matted and dirtied and thorns seemed to be pinning him down to the ground from where the magic of the garden had become corrupted and turned against him. His blue lips were moving unintelligibly until a tiny croak escaped his mouth; “Sam.” 

“Oh Gabriel, what did I do to you?” he moaned, grabbing his bag and cramming the mirror inside it. Yanking on his coat Sam sprinted down the rickety wooden stairs, almost crashing into Bobby as he did.  
“Sam? What the heck are you doing rushing around at ten at night?” he demanded as Sam grabbed a decanter of water.  
“I have to go to Gabriel!” he cried, flinging the front door open.   
“The beast?! Sam, are you nuts‽” Bobby puffed after Sam, who was already mounting Chevy. The man grabbed the horse’s reigns and glared up at Sam. “You’re not going.”  
“Je n’ai pas le temps!” Sam shrieked, trying to wrench the reigns from Bobby’s grip. “Let go!”  
“I’m not losing you again boy!”  
“Papa, please!” Sam was now freely crying, his expression so broken that Bobby could almost feel his pain.   
“Why?” Bobby whispered, his eyebrows knitting together. Sam sniffed and wondered for a moment before breaking into a half-smile.  
“It’s a long story.” Bobby took a deep breath before releasing his hold on the reigns.  
“Go,” he said and Sam leant down to kiss his cheek before snapping the reigns. “Prudence!” Bobby called after him, but Sam was long gone. With a resigned sigh, Bobby went back into the cottage and firmly shut the door. 

***

Château Filou was in a dreadful state when Sam arrived almost two hours later. It seemed as though it was wasting away with its master, slowly fading into nothing but shadow. Sam tied Chevy to the gate and ran into the castle. He knew the hallways like the back of his hand and in no time had kicked the ballroom doors open. The servants all span round and cried out as they saw him stood in the door. The Hellhounds growled and Dean bristled, pushing past the clamouring crowd until he was at Sam’s feet.  
“You have some nerve, showing up here!” he snarled, shoving at his brother’s legs angrily.  
“I know, I’m sorry. Please Dean, where’s Gabriel?”  
“Why should I tell you that?” he snapped, lighting his candles and pointing them furiously at Sam. His younger brother growled in frustration and blew the flames out with a sharp huff.  
“I need to see him!” he shouted.  
“What makes you think he wants to see you?” Dean hollered back. Sam grunted and swooped at his brother, holding him so that their eyes were meeting.  
“I. Need. Him.” Dean opened his mouth to say something when Castiel coughed urgently from behind them. The Winchester brothers turned and stared down at the clock, who was gesticulating at his clock face wildly. It was five minutes to midnight. Sam cried out and dropped his brother to the floor before pelting out the room to the gardens. 

It was astounding how feral they had become in the course of two weeks. Whatever it was Gabriel did to maintain its fury he had long since relinquished that power and it now seemed as though the garden had become a wild beast, rabid and untamed. The arthritic fingers of gnarled trees scratched at Sam’s face as he tore through the hedgerows, his entire body screeching at him to find Gabriel. Finally he stumbled into a slight clearing and the trellis came into view. Gabriel was still slumped underneath it, his breathing light and irregular. With a cry Sam fell to his side and rolled him over so that Gabriel’s glazed eyes were on his.  
“Gabriel, Gabriel, please don’t be dead,” he whimpered, tears spilling from his eyes and dampening the beast’s fur. He croaked and blinked slowly, his eyes focusing on Sam’s face. Recognition flitted across his features and his brow creased.   
“Sam?”   
“Oui Gabe, it’s me,” he smiled, holding Gabriel’s paw and pressing it to his cheek so that he could feel Sam’s raw skin beneath it. The Prince sighed and he closed his eyes blissfully.  
“Tu m’as beaucoup manqué,” he mumbled, opening his eyes once again to look over Sam’s face.   
“I know, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, repeating it over and over again as if it were a spell. The tears grew heavier, now falling as easily as rain. Gabriel shook his head slowly.  
“I don’t like it when you cry. Tu as de si jolis yeux. They shouldn’t be used for something as petty as crying.”  
“I can’t help it,” Sam spat out, burying his head in Gabriel’s fur and curling his fingers. “I shouldn’t have left you.”  
“You’re here now,” Gabriel said contentedly, wrapping his arms and the remains of his wings around Sam in a gentle embrace. “That’s all that matters.” They remained like that, with Sam crying and Gabriel’s arms around him. With a sniff, Sam pulled back and began to speak.  
“Gabe, I have to tell you something.” When there came no response he frowned and looked down at Gabriel. His eyes were closed and a placid smile was frozen on his mouth. Although he was still locked around Sam his body was unresponsive and his chest wasn’t rising. “GABRIEL!” From the distance, Sam could hear a church bell begin to chime midnight.

The spell remained the same. 

Despite all the books he’d read, Sam never thought a heart could truly break. On that day, he learnt he was wrong. From deep inside his chest he felt his heart crackle and splinter before shattering into a million shards and melting into teardrops. His body flopped down and he began to cry, his face in the crook of Gabriel’s armpit.  
“Je t’aime,” he whispered just as the twelfth chime rang out. The world seemed to stop spinning as the residents of Château Filou fell into a collective mourning, their cries filling the air. Just then, Sam felt a presence behind him. He turned around and was greeted by the kind face of a young bearded man, who was wearing a mint green cloak made of silk. Before Sam could speak the stranger dipped down and placed a slender finger on Gabriel’s chest, directly where his heart was. Sam looked inquisitively at him and the man ran a hand across the boy’s cheek.   
“Au revoir, Sam. Mes amitiés à Gabriel,” he said and, with a click of his fingers, turned into a firefly. Sam watched in silent awe as the small light flittered off to join the stars in the sky when he heard a groan from behind him. He span round and came face to face with Prince Gabriel for the first time. 

Gabriel’s human form was handsome to say the least. His hair was the same burnt bronze colour that his mane had been, but it was shorter and slicked back from his face. His body was smooth and pale and there were no wings spanning out from his back. His face was attractive, with a beard surrounding his bow mouth. The Prince looked down at his hands in amazement before steadily getting to his feet. His eyes fell on Sam and he ran over to the boy, scooping him in his arms and holding him tightly to his form. Sam pulled back and looked uncertainly at the man before him. Gabriel’s face contorted into a look of immense hurt.  
“Sam… it’s me.” The boy looked him over curiously before meeting his gaze properly. And it was his eyes – those constant, liquid eyes – that told Sam it truly was his Gabriel. With a laugh of infectious joy the boy ran to Gabriel and bundled him in his arms.  
“I thought I lost you!” he whimpered into the Prince’s arms.  
“You’re never going to get rid of me that easily!” Gabriel laughed before pulling back. “Oh, and Sam?”  
“What is it Gabe?”  
“Je t’aime aussi.” Sam’s face broke into an ecstatic grin and, without a second thought, crushed his lips to Gabriel’s. The Prince responded enthusiastically and they continued to kiss late into the night as the fireflies danced above them.


	6. Epilogue

The ballroom was packed with servants and aristocracy alike. Somewhere amongst the crowd Bobby was talking excitedly with Dean and Ellen was rushing about making sure all the food was properly laid out. Charlie was flirting with Jo in some corner and children scrabbled after the Hellhounds, giggling delightedly as they had the creatures scampering for shelter. Since the curse was broken Château Filou had been returned to its former glory, with all its residents’ human again. Gabriel’s began his reign anew, with Sam consulting him all the way. The kingdom flourished once again and the story of the epic love between the two men was famed throughout the land. Then, one fine Tuesday, they were wed in a private ceremony in the east wing. Suddenly the doors to the ballroom were opened and Castiel was stood grandly in the doorway, decorated in a white suit with a black watch hanging from his pocket. His sparkling blue eyes scanned the crowd before he proudly announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you your Kings, Gabriel and Samuel!” He stepped to the side as the two men entered the room, one clad in burgundy and the other in gold. The audience ruptured into cheers as they took to the centre of the room. The orchestra struck up a waltz that seemed to be older than time itself and the two began to dance.

Sam looked round the room as he and Gabriel danced. His eyes fell on Dean, whose hand was intertwined with Castiel’s; his brother’s emerald eyes shimmered with life and he shot Sam a thumbs up, whereas Castiel preferred to sink into a low bow. Bobby was stood awkwardly beside Ellen, who seemed to find the man’s attentions amusing and a little bit flattering. Everywhere he looked, Sam saw smiling faces and he couldn’t help but break into a grin himself. Gabriel chuckled and Sam looked down at his husband.  
“What’re you laughing at?” he enquired, squirming slightly as Gabriel squeezed his waist lightly.   
“You. You look so happy.”  
“That’s because I am. I’m the happiest man in the world,” he beamed, his newly acquired crown slipping down his forehead slightly. Gabriel reached up to push it back before dipping Sam slightly.   
“So you should be; you’ve got me as a husband, after all!” he said cheekily. Sam rolled his eyes dramatically.  
“Oh no, married to a beast!” he quipped sardonically, kissing the end of Gabriel’s nose to show he didn’t mean it. The Prince held his left hand up and proudly wiggled his golden ring in Sam’s face.  
“Well, I’m your beast,” he declared, his smile lighting the room. “Continuellement.” Sam grinned in response and lifted Gabriel into the air, the King’s arms fanning out like wings.  
“I can deal with that.” 

And they all lived happily ever after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fin.


End file.
